


Luck Would Have Hurt Less

by Wishful86



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Episode 6, Episode Tag, Gen, bit of Hurt/Comfort, bit of banter/humour, spoilery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-23
Updated: 2015-02-23
Packaged: 2018-03-14 16:30:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3417656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wishful86/pseuds/Wishful86
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spoiler warning for Episode 6 Series 2 as this is a tag onto the end of that.</p><p>"The horse had been taken from behind him by the stable boy so he proceeded to lie down with his arms stretched out." Aramis is left exhausted by the days events and the others are there for him.  </p><p>Hope you enjoy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Luck Would Have Hurt Less

When they reached the Garrison, Aramis was exhausted. He sat atop his horse and found he wasn’t sure whether he had the energy to even swing his leg to get down. The others were dismounting with their usual ease around him almost tauntingly. Well, except Constance. She was being helped down by d’Artagnan. This is what spurred him into action. He had to move before someone realised he needed help. 

One, two, three...

He swung his leg over perfectly but followed it with an unsteady slide down the side of his horse and a plonk down onto his bottom. 

It hurt. A lot. But it served him and his pride right really and he found that he couldn’t help it; he laughed. 

“Aramis!” Porthos shouted running quickly round his horse upon seeing his friend hit the deck. He wasn’t the only one to move closer; Treville, Athos, d’Artagnan and Constance all rushed to their friend’s side. 

They didn’t expect to find him chuckling while sat awkwardly on the floor. 

Athos and Porthos shared raised brows. “I think he has finally lost it,” Porthos smirked. 

Aramis raised his head, “Oh, I haven’t lost anything,” he said groaning slightly as his giggles made him ache even more, “except may be the energy to move.” The horse had been taken from behind him by the stable boy so he proceeded to lie down with his arms stretched out. He sighed rather contentedly. 

D’Artganan, Constance and Porthos laughed while Athos merely rolled his eyes. However Treville placed himself at Aramis’ head and looked down. 

“Hey Captain,” Aramis grinned looking back up at him.

“You can’t stay here, Aramis,” Treville told him with light firmness. 

Aramis blinked then nodded and slowly started to move, “Alright, Captain.”

Treville shook his head and turned to walk away, “Not your Captain anymore remember.”

Aramis stilled, “Oh right...well then, I’m not moving.” He promptly flopped back down. 

The Captain glanced to the heavens as if for strength but continued to walk away. He was warmed by the renewed chuckles he left in his wake though. It served as a reminder that they had once more all made it back alive. 

“Come on,” Athos offered a hand to his sprawled out friend. 

Aramis stared at the hand for a moment but relented and with every bit of energy left, he forced himself to stand. It wasn’t graceful. Or fun. 

“Oh, Aramis,” Constance gasped; she hated seeing any of them hurt. 

“I’m fine,” Aramis responded unconvincingly through gritted teeth as he let go of Athos’ support and attempted to find his own feet but a spell of dizziness did not go unnoticed and he was grateful that Porthos put a grounding hand on his shoulder. 

“You are covered in blood,” Constance observed with a frown. 

“Yeah, your hair is....”d’Artagnan decided to be blunt, “It could do with a wash.”

Aramis snorted gently, “Thanks for the tip.”

“Anytime,” d’Artagnan lightly patted his shoulder jokingly.

“The whelp is right though,” Porthos pointed out, “You could do with cleaning up.”

“I can sort that,” Aramis assured him.

“Any of the cuts need stitches?” Athos asked seriously.

“Shouldn’t think so,” Aramis stated.

Athos regarded his friend for a few seconds but nodded, “Ok, but you find otherwise and you let us know. Now, to your rooms.”

“Good plan, see you later” Aramis nodded and shrugging off Porthos’s hand, he started to slowly limp away.

He didn’t think everyone would follow.

“You’re coming?” he asked turning back surprised. The answers all came at once and his tired mind only let him catch parts,

“-not letting you out of my sight-“  
“-hiding injuries again isn’t-“  
“-worried us today so-“  
“- with stitches and I’m with him now-“

Aramis smiled back at them especially Constance who was clutching d’Artagnan’s hand like her life depended on it. “It’s been quite a day,” he sighed. 

“And you live to fight another one,” d’Artagnan said knowingly.

“That I do,” Aramis agreed, eyes gleaming. 

“But maybe not tomorrow, eh?” Porthos told him with a stern edge.

“Maybe not this week,” Athos added. 

“I think,” Aramis shared an amused look with Constance, “they want me to rest.”

Constance took a step forward and linked arms with him, “Then let’s get you home and to bed.”

Aramis hummed his agreement and allowed Constance to steer him round again, “I could do with a drink first,” he mumbled suddenly feeling rather overwhelmed . 

Porthos sensed it and went to walk on his friend’s other side. “You haven’t heard about my chat with Rochefort yet.” Aramis sent him a grateful glance. 

“You two actually spoke to each other then?” d’Artagnan asked joining in the distraction. 

“Wasn’t through choice,” Porthos assured him. 

“Rochefort had to reset his shoulder,” Athos huffed. 

That was the wrong thing to say. Aramis swung round with a groan, “What happened to your shoulder?”

“Dislocated. It’s alright now,” Porthos said glaring at Athos who shrugged apologetically. 

“Why didn’t you say something?” Aramis questioned.

“Because its fine and you got pushed out of a window,” Porthos growled with renewed anger. Not at Aramis but at that bastard, Marmion. 

Still Aramis dropped his head, “I am sorry.”

“Don’t you dare,” Porthos told him firmly, “Don’t you even dare.”

When Aramis raised his head again, there was a glint in his eyes, “I landed on an awning.”

“Never doubted you for a second,” Porthos whispered. 

“Seems luck was on your side,” Constance said with a squeeze of his arm.

“Nooo,” Aramis shook his head, “I think luck would have hurt less.”

“I think luck would have been not being pushed in the first place,” d’Artagnan argued.

“Or no eclipse to start the mess,” Porthos mused.

“Now, I wouldn’t go that far,” Constance stated sharing a smile with d’Artagnan.

“As deep and lovely as this is, can we keep going please?” Athos put in firmly, “That wine won’t drink itself.”

“Perhaps because you’ve never given it enough time to try?” Aramis joked raising an amused brow. 

Athos stared at him briefly before marching on throwing, “Whatever would we have done without you?” over his shoulder. 

There was a collective laugh behind him but they knew that call it God or luck or whatever, they were all glad they didn’t have to find that out today. 

...


End file.
